


“Monday”

by fakebodies



Category: Aliens (1986), Aliens: Colonial Marines (Video Game)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Attempted Suicide, M/M, but tbh 85 percent of my Aliens fics line up with CMs continuity, im not sure, is this technically hurt comfort?, the only reason I’m tagging CM as a fandom is bc it’s explicity based off concepts for the game
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-22
Updated: 2018-11-14
Packaged: 2019-08-05 23:09:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16376804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fakebodies/pseuds/fakebodies
Summary: Based off of concept art for Aliens: Colonial Marines which implied Hudson survivedIf he had, they always would’ve found each other, really





	1. Chapter 1

Hicks hadn’t thought he’d leave Hadley’s Hope alive. The first time, he’d been lucky. The second time? That was a damn miracle. Weyland and his small troop of synthetic doubles had left him with more scars than he’d arrived with, which was no small feat. They’d left him with occasional seizures, mild short-term memory loss, and nightmares to last him the rest of his life, too. How the Sephora marines ever located him was beyond him. So was how in the hell he was going to keep living.

It was one thing when he’d had purpose- drive, ambition, whatever the hell you want to call it. Back when he’d had brothers and sisters in arms, living most of the year on the Sulaco and spending their occasional shore leave in seedy hotels with… god, with Hudson. Hicks can barely think about the other man without breaking down on the spot. He’s gotten better, but not better enough. Hudson had sacrificed himself for them all, and if it hadn’t been for Ripley and Newt, Hicks would’ve dove into that hole after him. Sitting on his shitty, standard-issue cot, Hicks tries to still his trembling hands. Tries not to start crying again. He squeezes his eyes shut only to have the image of Hudson at their last briefing, smirking, his hand raised in the air materialize on the insides of his eyelids. Hudson had always been a bit of an ass, but it was endearing. It made Hicks laugh. He chokes on a sob.

Hicks tries so fucking hard to keep living. It’s what they’d all want, isn’t it? His family. His lover. God, had he ever really told Hudson he loved him? Hicks can’t remember. He balls his hands into fists, digging his nails into his palms. When his jaw clenches, half of his face hurts. The scars left by the acid spray still ached and stung. Hicks wishes he could see out of both eyes. He wishes it wouldn’t leave him in debt for the rest of his goddamned life to get a synthetic replacement. He hates having to relearn how to shoot, but he’s got the rest of his life ahead of him, doesn’t he?

Sure, the second time he’d left Hadley’s Hope, it’d been a miracle. The third time? He hadn’t formulated much of an escape plan. His shotgun is in his bag. Nobody questioned him when he requested leave, which made things that much easier. Hadley’s Hope is still a hellhole when he steps out of the dropship, manned by a pilot he doesn’t know. They don’t exchange goodbyes. Hicks finds his way to a heap of scrap that looks enough like the Bug Stomper that he feels it’d make an okay grave. He hadn’t packed much ammo, but you don’t exactly need two eyes to blow a hole in the back of your skull. He lets his jaw go slack around the barrel, closing his eyes and sending a silent prayer to god almighty that Hudson will be waiting for him. He slowly squeezes the trigger.

Hicks isn’t sure what he expected to hear, but the noise hadn’t been a gunshot. There was a solid ‘whump,’ a moment of pure confusion before Hicks registered the hands on his shoulders, the knees resting on either side of his hips. He looks, wide-eyed and only half-there, up at the man over him. The jacket and pants are new, but Hicks would recognize that chest plate anywhere. ‘Louise,’ he reads, and his vision clouds up with tears. He reaches up to touch the man’s face, and even with the shaggy beard Hicks knows that jaw. He couldn’t tell you how many times he’d kissed it, whispering promises he wasn’t sure he could ever keep.

“Will…?” his voice cracks when he speaks. He must be dead, because how else is Hudson alive?

“Fuck, Dwayne…” Hudson- and hearing his name in that voice confirms it all -breathes, gently wiping away Hicks’ tears, “The hell were you doing?”

“…Looking for you, I guess.” Hicks shrugs, the movement jerky. He can see the gears turn, Hudson had always been smart. The horror dawning on his face makes Hicks look away.

“…Dwayne…” Hudson’s voice is low, taken-aback. When he cups Hicks’ cheek, the material of his glove is rough, worn. Hicks leans into his touch instinctively. Muscle memory.

“I’m right here, dumbass.” Hudson says, and even with his eyes closed Hicks can hear the smile in his voice.

Hicks laughs for the first time since he’d left Hadley’s Hope.


	2. Chapter 2

_They’re sitting together in the mess hall, trays in front of them. Hicks is watching Hudson as he and Wierzbowski joke, smiling indulgently whenever Hudson glances at him. Their own game of silent encouragement, a private affair that meant more to Hicks each time they played. Hudson grins at him, bright, full of energy- a ray of sunshine in the black depths of space, within the dull metal confines of the Sulaco. He doesn’t know why, but something Wierzbowski says catches his attention._

_“You’ve got guts, that’s for sure.”_

* * *

Hicks laughs, wiping the last of the tears from his eyes as he looks up at Hudson. Hudson had guts. Of course he’d found a way to survive, out here on this shithole of a moon. Hudson shakes his head, but he’s grinning.

“God, I missed you.”

“I missed you too, tough guy.” Hicks smiles, still laying on his back, Hudson still on top of him. He wonders if Hudson remembers those nights on shore leave as well as he does. Hudson’s hair is shaggy and there are shadows under his eyes. They’re both older, worse for wear, but the smile Hudson flashes him makes Hicks feel like it’s their first day meeting again. He feels alive.

Hudson stands, holding his hand out to Hicks to help him up. Once he’s back on his feet, Hicks shoulders his bag and starts to follow Hudson- his friend, his lover, his world. He tells Hicks stories as they walk, filling him in on all that missed time. He’ll find out some things on his own when Hudson pulls off his chest plate and shirt to go to bed, revealing all those fresh scars. Hicks will put himself in the same position, showing the extent of the acid burns that twist their way down from his forehead to his ribs. Ignoring, of course, the small, layered scars on his arm from all of Weyland’s injections. Hudson doesn’t ask about them, but that doesn’t mean the gears aren’t turning.

Hicks can’t remember the last time he’d seen genuine sympathy in someone’s eyes. It had always been pity. He can feel himself starting to crack again, until Hudson pulls him close, gathering him against his chest. He can hear Hudson take a shuddering breath, but it isn’t until he feels the tears that he realizes Hudson is crying too. They both speak at once, the same words spilling from their lips- they’d always been on the same wavelength.

“I’m so sorry I never looked for you.”

When they look at each other, Hudson cups his scarred cheek. That touch, warm and soft without the glove, makes Hicks feel more at home than he had anywhere else. He can hear wind in the halls of the abandoned, half-destroyed building. There was no power- Hudson had rigged a pull to slide the door open and shut. What made this place and the marine base so different for him was the man here now, breathing and crying and laughing. Alive. Even on the Sulaco, they’d had a way of knowing where the other was, or what they were going to say. _Like_ _twins_ , Drake had said. _Some_ _sort_ _of_ _ESP_ _bullshit_. They rush to speak at once, different words with the same message.

“I love you-“

“-I’m so glad you’re home.”

And Hicks is home, isn’t he? He cards his fingers through Hudson’s long, dark hair. It’s Hudson’s turn to laugh.

“Yeah, Dwayne, I love you too.”

**Author's Note:**

> (originally posted on 2x4swrites.tumblr.com)  
> this might become a short series? I like the concept a lot


End file.
